


A Lost Scene

by moroiulmeu



Series: Amadeus: Lost Scenes Series [1]
Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: Did anyone notice that Salieri made Mozart's bed?, Leopold is a bi..., Or Is It?, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, but that's not for me to go back in time and fix, mentions of abuse, or rewrite the script, there should have been a nicer ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroiulmeu/pseuds/moroiulmeu
Summary: If you pay attention to the end of Amadeus when they first drop Mozart off his bed is a wreck. When it cuts to Salieri taking dictation from him, Mozart's bed is made and quite neatly too. I contemplated what that scene may have looked like, but it turned a bit darker than what I was hoping. Sorry. (This takes in the radio play/reading/the original script a bit too.)





	A Lost Scene

**Author's Note:**

> I used to write for hours and hours on end while growing up, 6-8 hours a night almost, but for the past few years I've written next to nothing. I would ask you be kind, but I would rather honest feedback, be critical, let me know what I've lost and need to find again, what is rusty and needs work. I need to get back to this. I also need to familiarize myself with the formatting...
> 
> In some ways I feel like I could detail this out more, but I also wonder if it would lose something if I did.

Salieri cursed himself for the umpteenth time that night as he found himself loosely tidying Mozart's room. Mozart himself was, although chatty, considerably more subdued in his current condition. 

  
"That will have to do," Salieri mused more to himself, "Are you feeling well enough to move around yet?"

  
"Let's check," Mozart replied optimistically, and before Salieri could consider any objections proceeded to attempt standing.

  
He crashed nearly face first to the floor.

  
Salieri groaned inwardly, again sarcastically thanking God for his predicament as he knelt beside the younger composer.

  
"Arms around my neck," he instructed.

  
Mozart giggled oddly but did as he was told.

  
As Salieri lifted Mozart up off the floor he felt his blood grow colder than it already was. His charge hardly seemed to weigh anything at all.

  
"Before we go near that requiem I'm getting you out of these," Salieri mused, setting Mozart down on the bed and starting to remove his cravat.

  
The awkward laugh was quieter than normal in response but it made him realize unhappily what it really was.

  
"Why maestro, you could have simply done that from the start."

  
Salieri was speechless. He felt his face and ears burn with such a convoluted mixture of emotions that he didn't know where to begin in sorting them out. Annoyed and trying to hide his shaking hands he jerked the cravat from around Mozart's neck hastily.

  
"I'm merely concerned for your health," He retorted, coolly, "You're both soaked and freezing."

  
To his surprise Mozart merely nodded, looking off in another direction.

  
"I'll behave," he promised.

  
Salieri wasn't sure where his mind went but he found himself crouched there with his hands holding part of Mozart's vest, the words echoing strangely in his ears, his mouth dry. He cursed softly, this time out loud, causing Mozart to look at him, tilting his head curiously.

  
"Unless you don't wish for me to," He continued, raising an eyebrow.

  
"Shut up," Salieri muttered, mostly half-hearted, "Where would I find you clean clothes? I don't have the desire to rummage through your room."

  
"Where do you think, maestro?" Mozart replied, his voice surprisingly dry, "The same place you would find most people's clothes, I expect."

  
Aggravated Salieri shot back, "'You expect?' You mean you don't know?"

  
Mozart rolled his eyes but smiled.

  
"Signore, you can be a surprising amount of fun."

  
Salieri deflated and sighed, going to the armoire and opening the doors. His face fell further, the clothes inside giving him more heartache. He tried to select the cleanest and warmest looking of them. To his surprise Mozart was quiet until he returned and reached for his collar.

  
Mozart's frail hand seized his wrist, his face going serious.

  
"You're going to catch a chill if you stay in these," Salieri fussed, "Or a worse one, anyway."

  
Mozart's hand slipped weakly from his wrist and he turned his head, his expression bitter. Salieri was unable to contain his gasp of dismay and horror as he slipped the shirt away. He felt a surge of white hot rage, hatred, and despair in such a dizzying amount he swayed for a moment, starring at the scars decorating Mozart's pale, thin frame. He was so focused he didn't realize Mozart had moved until he felt the icy fingers touch his cheek. His heart skipped.

  
"And now you see me..." Mozart said simply, tiredly, "You see me clearly, just as I see you."

  
Salieri searched for his own voice to reply, but nothing came out. Mozart's smile took on an edge he had not seen in it before.

  
"Antonio Salieri, listen to me... I forgive you. This is not your fault. You didn't put me here, no matter how much you tried."

  
"I didn't know..." He gasped.

  
"I know," Mozart said a bit ruefully, "But will you still help me finish the requiem?"

  
Salieri nodded, "Of course..."

  
They both fell silent as he finished helping Mozart change, his heart aching with every mark he glimpsed, tasting bile in the back of his throat.

  
"If he wasn't dead I would kill your father," Salieri said quietly.

  
Mozart looked at him levelly before glancing at the requiem on the table.

  
"A few weeks ago I would have been furious at you for that... Now I think I would let you..."  
  


"Let me fix your blankets before we begin."  
  


Mozart nodded as Salieri took his arm and set him in the chair, then watched as he made the bed.

  
"You're very adept at all of this..."

  
"I know many a household skill, Wolfgang."

  
Mozart smiled at the use of his first name as Salieri reached for his arm again and helped him back to the bed.

  
"Thank you," He said warmly as he was tucked in.

  
"Certainly. Now then... The Requiem..."


End file.
